The voice belongs to one of Faramir's rescue rangers
Chapter 9: Faramir’s decision
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“No Lieutenant,” Tirion laughed, mocking the intruder’s rank. He could feel Mablung’s jealous eyes, waiting for an opportunity to attack if Tirion struck his captain again. “I have the Captain-general’s personal order to administer this punishment. It will continue until I’m satisfied Faramir understands the severity of his offense. Interfere and face Lord Boromir’s wrath.” Tirion landed a hard smack across Faramir tender bottom if only to provoke Mablung.
Faramir yelped, crying out more in humiliation than pain. “Damn you, Tirion. Stop this madness. I order you to stop.”
“I gave you a choice, Faramir. Unfortunately, you chose to have your bottom spanked.” Tirion brought his hand down ready to strike. Long fingers wrapped around his wrist, halting the slap in mid arc.
“I said, Lord Faramir has had enough punishment for one night,” Mablung growled, tightening his grip around Tirion’s wrist. “Touch him again and find yourself over my knee.”
“You would not dare.”
“If not Mablung, then I.” Damrod helped Faramir to his feet, shielding his captain from further embarrassment while Faramir redressed himself. The painful hiss the younger man released when fabric touched flesh did not go unnoticed by the large ranger.
“Captain, permit me to…”
“Nay Mablung, there is no time.” Faramir moved slowly, attempting to keep the pain out of his face as he made his way to the tent flap. “We return to Henneth Annun. We have lingered here too long.”
He failed to notice the strange smiles Mablung and Damrod exchanged while they tied and gagged Tirion. The senior lieutenant elbowed Mablung, nodded at Faramir before he walked out of the tent, leaving Tirion wondering what had transpired between the two rangers. He didn’t have long to wait.
Mablung pulled the unsuspecting Faramir into his arms. He squeezed a firm buttock making his intentions very clear. Faramir gasped painfully, jerking his head back to stare in bewilderment at his lieutenant. Mablung’s other hand clasped Faramir’s head, weaving his long fingers into the younger man’s locks.
Tirion’s eyes widen, shocked when the bulky ranger lowered his head to capture Faramir’s lips within his own. Tirion screamed in outrage, but the gag muffled the sound and worse Faramir moaned hungrily, allowing the big ox to deepen the kiss. From the sound Faramir made, one would think he had never been kissed.
As Mablung tightened the embrace, Tirion began struggling, fighting to unfasten the ropes around his hands. How dare that lowly ranger kiss those lips! Faramir belong to him. He had only to convince the young ranger, and convince Faramir he would.
The kiss ended giving a gasping Faramir a chance to catch his breath. “Mablung, I…”
“Nay Faramir, allow me to speak.” Mablung placed two large fingers across the younger man’s lips, silencing the captain. “I desire you as a lover, however I understand your reluctance to answer. You need time to consider the consequences of such a relationship. When we reach Henneth Annun, I await your answer. Though not a passionate lover, I vow to love you unconditionally.”
Faramir glanced nervously at Tirion, fearful his brother’s lieutenant would attempt to blackmail him with what he had just witnessed. Angry eyes stared not at him but at Mablung. If looks could kill, Mablung would have been dead.
Gentle fingers returned his thoughts back to the man holding him. He looked up at Mablung, and all doubts immediately vanished. Mablung loved him. Allowing the relationship would give his father another reason to criticize him. Not that it mattered; Denethor would disapprove anything he did, no matter what the outcome.
“Faramir, I care not who learns of us,” Mablung said, glancing at the tied prisoner. “Least of all that one. If Lord Denethor forbids our relationship, then defy him I shall. Never will I relent my love for you.”
Faramir couldn’t believe it. Here, one man dared defy anyone, including the powerful Steward of Gondor for his sake and the only thing Mablung wanted in return was love. Not just anyone’s love, but his. How could he deny Mablung when the man was willing to sacrifice everything for him!
Faramir wrapped both arms around Mablung’s neck. For once, he, Faramir, Lord Denethor’s embarrassment, would find happiness. “Upon our return to Henneth Annun – our home. I wish to become yours.”
Mablung’s face beamed with pride. He kissed Faramir again, this time taking his time to enjoy the intimate moment, especially with Tirion’s jealous eyes staring at them in envy. He reluctantly broke the kiss, surprised how hot the tent had become. “If it were my choice, I would claim you here. However we have not the time, nor will I allow anyone to witness our most intimate moments. I share you with no one”
Having never been the recipient of such honest passion, Faramir was overwhelmed. His emotions were in turmoil, and hearing Mablung’s hints of jealousy made the ranger that more desirable.
Concerned what had kept Mablung and Faramir, Damrod returned to the tent and found the two missing rangers sharing a passionate kiss.
Finally Mablung had found his nerve and told Faramir how he felt, and surprisingly their reserved young captain felt the same.
He hated interrupting the new lovers wanting them to enjoy themselves but the longer they lingered in Boromir’s camp the more they risked being recaptured. Damrod cleared his throat, stifling his amusement when the two separated, startled at the sound of his voice.
“Yes Damrod?” Faramir asked innocently trying his best to remain composed.
“Captain, our way is clear. We must leave now least Lord Boromir wakes.” The senior ranger glanced wickedly at Mablung before adding, “unless you and Mablung wish to remain as you are.”
The three rangers quickly left the tent, leaving a frustrated and jealous Tirion behind. Determined Mablung would not touch Faramir while he still lived, Tirion twisted his wrists back and forth working the ropes until they started to loosen.
He continued to work the ropes until he freed one hand. Tirion quickly freed the other, angrily tossing the rope across the tent. He removed the gag from his mouth and hurried out of the tent, glancing towards Ithilien to discover the dark silhouettes of several men heading towards the forest.
A small snicker caught his attention. Tirion turned to the guards, who shrugged at the angry lieutenant. “Fools!” he shouted, not caring if he woke the sleeping men nearby. In fact, he raised his voice intending to wake Boromir. “Captain Faramir has escaped, and you did naught to prevent it. The Captain-general will have your heads.”
“No Lieutenant, you permitted Captain Faramir’s escape.” A guard countered with confidence. “Accordance to the rules, we can not interfere. Our duties permit are to protect the Captain-general’s base from those who wish to do us harm.”
“Do you not understand the repercussions? Never has Lord Boromir lost these games.”
“Never has the Captain-general played against his brother,” another guard replied, laughing at the turn of events. “Beregond had more faith in the rangers than most. He predicted Captain Faramir’s victory.”
Beregond. How he hated that particular guard of the Citadel. The ever faithful Beregond, the loyal guard who always managed to grab Faramir whenever the rangers traveled to Minas Tirith. Somehow he suspected Beregond had a hand in Faramir’s escape, how else could the rangers have escaped so quickly without outside interference.
Once he dealt with Mablung, Beregond would be next.
“The game has not ended,” Tirion stubbornly declared, glaring at the two guards. “There is time to change the outcome.”
“Captain Faramir has taken the flag to Henneth Annun. None but the rangers know the way to Henneth Annun. The game has ended.”
Tirion watched the ranger’s silhouettes grow smaller. He would snatch victory out of the hands of defeat. “The flag can be reclaimed as can Faramir.”
What happens next?
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